Mass Effect: Flotilla
by Gredd18
Summary: Follow a young female Quarian by the name of Mek'hal Vas Trosboi, as she fights to help save the galaxy, among millions of other people. Some will be friends. Some will be target practice. But all that matters is survival... Will she survive the war? Or will she be another casualty? Only time will tell. Rated T for violence/Bosh'tets. Is My First Story. On Hiatus.
1. Prolouge

**AN: This is my first proper story, but my second publishing. I'll update this when I can, as stuff is bearing down on me. But, enough about that. Enjoy!**

Translated from kelish to standard basic by yours truly

Prologue: Practice makes perfect. Sometimes.

Date: 2182

Mek'hal swore. That was the fifth target she'd missed in a row. She got the message; don't shoot things with assault rifles if you wanted to hit them.

Shotguns were easy; point and shoot at something close, and if you missed, never shoot a gun again. Pistols were also easy for her, she wasn't military standard yet, but she could hit things 8 out of 10 times. Ok!, maybe 7 out of 10.

Still, she had now tried "Heavy" Pistols, Shotguns, SMGs, and Assault rifles. Now, Time to try a Sniper rifle. Her Instructor had said that she might be a better-than average shot, seeing as with relatively accurate weapons she was hitting the target most of the time.

As she walked into the Sniper training room, Mek'hal noticed the walls were reinforced even more than usual for a weapon training room. She wasn't surprised at this; Sniper-rifles could easily penetrate the thin hull of the _Trosboi_.

The sniper she would be using was a basic mark-I mantis; loaded with Quarian-Developed "blunt" rounds. The Quarians had developed them to use for combat on the ships, as normal rounds had the chance of breaking through the hull, and a penetrated hull was like a penetrated suit; deadly. Even if the geth weren't that considerate.

"Alright, Mek'hal, pick up the sniper and check it." said the arms-master

Checking the gun wasn't necessary, as the ships' arms master , Gehj'mal, kept the guns in perfect working condition. But not checking it could lead to bad habits, and having your arms blow off because you forgot to check your gun was a bad was to go.

Mek'ha quickly looked over the gun, checking the lights, clip slot, barrel, and trigger.

"It's clear and clean" Mek'hal replied.

"Ok, but I didn't see you check the shoulder-rest."

Mek'hal silently swore and check the shoulder-rest was fixed and sturdy.

"That all?" She said, slightly embarrassed; Gehj'mal was good-looking. Well, as good looking as you could get as a Quarian.

"Yes, that should be all. Load a clip and, for once, keep the rifle aimed down the range. You scared Kel'jah last time you pointed that pistol at him."

"Yes, Boss" she replied, with annoyed undertone

"I'm only looking out so you don't get thrown in the brig with a murder on your head"

"My finger wasn't even close to the trig-"

"Don't give me that, Bosh'tet! You can still shoot someone When "Your finger wasn't close to the trigger!""

"Sorry..."

"Sorry does NOT cut it when you've killed someone friendly. I'm trying to keep the people on this ship from shooting at each other. Unless they're geth."

An awkward silence fell, driving home the point.

"Just load the goddamn clip." Said the annoyed arms-master.

Mek'hal Quietly loaded the thermal clip, making sure it was locked in and connected.

"Loaded" Another of Gehj's lessons. Knowing when your allies were reloaded and loaded, was important tactical Intel in the heat of a firefight, He Knew. It allowed a squad to always keep suppressing fire on an enemy and not allowing them any chances to take potshots without loosing a limb.

"Alright, five shots downrange at target one. Aim for the vitals." He marked the vitals on the geth-like target.

Mek'ha Silently Swung the rifle to aim at the target. She scoped-in and aimed for the geth-target's "flashlight", and squeezed the trigger.

"Good shot. Slightly off, but I rarely see someone shoot that close to the center of the light."

She'd shot just to the bottom-left of the light, leaving it most probably paralysed, or dead, if it were a real geth. Slightly stunned at the accuracy, she slowly loaded a clip, more focused on the target.

"Focus! I don't want to have to unjam that gun if you get the clip in wrong."

She quickly focused on the job at hand, and proceeded to hit the next four targets with the same unnerving accuracy.


	2. Chapter One: Haestrom

**A/N** Sorry for not updating in a while, writer's block combined with other stuff limits my time to write, and I was juggling ideas. Anyway, to the story!

* * *

**Chapter One** – _Haestrom_

**Date**: 2184

"Ok, so we all know the plan. Get in, plant the scanners, get out before the Geth get here." Kal spoke, trying to ease the tension that was gripping the squad.

"And if the Geth do turn up?" said Bran'jar, the other marksman.

"What do you think? We shoot the bosh'tets."

"What happens if we are overrun?"

"Most probably, you'll die."

"Nice"

"Just shutup, you ass. We're all worried about this mission, so stop making it sound like we're all going to die down there. Bosh'tet." Mek'hal spoke up, voice raised. "It's not like we are going to die. We're going to the drop zone in a shuttle, the Geth won't even know we've been there, and we need to know what, if anything, the geth are doing to Dholen."

That was enough. Kal was on edge, nervous and scared.

"Shutup, ALL of you, this isn't helping. Just keep quiet until we get there, or I'm going to start opening airlocks!"

Silence.

"Thank you. Now keep it that way." Kal said, trying his calm, as the others checked their weapons.

* * *

They set the shuttle down in a small out-of-the-way area, that led onto a balcony overlooking a courtyard, the first scanner location. Small boxes and crates, long forgotten, dotted the area giving moderate cover.

"Well, if the Geth do turn up, we'll have some cover." Kal said as he surveyed the area, looking for ambush spots.

"Seems clear, Gharo, set up the scanner and we'll move on, Bran and Mek'hal, cover us from the balcony. Jalro, Hual, Check the perimeter."

"Yes Sir."

"Got It."

"Check."

"You have... supportive hips.. and a nice ass, Mek.."

"Stop trying to flirt with me, Bran, it's not going to work."

"Just trying to make conversation."

"No, you're not. You think you are a gift from the ancestors to all women everywhere."

"Well, I am." Bran smugly stated.

"No, you are a bosh'tet, and an ass"

"Hey, you can't say that!"

"Yes, I can, I outrank you."

* * *

Their omni-tools lit up as the team radio started to bleat into life.

"We've got Geth Incoming, cover us if we do-" Kal stopped, as the Geth dropship stopped overhead and dropped a dozen Geth over the courtyard

"Bosh'tet! Cover us while we try to get to your location." barked Kal, as he took potshots at the advancing Geth.

"On It" Mek'hal reassured, as she dropped a Geth trooper.

Every time they nearly cleared the yard of Geth, more would spill in. Kal and the others were slowly advancing up the courtyard, trying to stay ahead of the relentless Geth, as Mek'hal and Bran covered them

"Kal, We've got a problem, we're running out of thermal clips. We've got about five shots each, then we're down to pistols.

"Keelah, We're going to have to make a run for it, aren't we?" Kal realised

"Affirmative"

"Damn, We'll all run at once, give the Geth More Targets to choose from."

"We'll cover you as best we can." Bran assured, piping in

"No, Bran, give Mek'hal the rest of your clips, and warm up the shuttle, Mek'hal is a better shot than you, and I want to get out of here ASAP.

"On it" Bran Affirmed, as he dropped his remaining clips and ran for the shuttle

"Mek'hal, How many Shots?"

"Counting this One? Four."

"Ok, tell me when a good time would be, I can't see shit."

Mek'hal popped one last geth in the flashlight

"Any time now, the are only three left."

"Three, two- bosh'tet, the dropship is back, run for it!" Kal bellowed as he set off for the ramp.

Geth Plasma fire rained down around them as they all sprinted for the ramp.

"Kal, shuttle's ready for take-off, anytime now, before they find it." Bran said with a tint of fear in his voice.

"Acknowledged, Mek'hal, Get to the shuttle and defend it from any geth that find it."

"On it."

* * *

Gharo cried out in pain as the plasma hit her lower left leg, ripping through what was left of her already weak shields, and stabbed into her flesh.

"Those bosh'tets, Jalro, Hual, cover me!" ordered as he ran back for Gharo, taking a bolt in the arm.

"Come on, get up, we need to get to the shuttle!" Kal said as he helped Gharo up the ramp.

Kal and Gharo were nearly there, only 20 meters left, but with two geth troopers bearing down on them...

Jalro saw Mek'hal with her pistol, aiming down the sights, at... him? She fired, and the bullet flared past his face, only cementers from his mask. He turned back and saw a geth's head explode , closely followed by the unit next to it, easily a 20-meter shot. With a pistol. For a Quarian, that was a hard shot.

"Keelah" Jalro muttered under his breath, trying to believe what just happened.

"Mek'hal, what are you playing at?! You nearly shot me!" Kal exclaimed as he reached the shuttle.

"She just saved your ass. Show her some respect." Jalro Stated, in a matter-of-fact tone, as the shuttle flew out of Haestrom's atmosphere


	3. Chapter Two: Neema

**A/N** I Wrote this twice. Stupid Program closed on me for updates as I was ten pixels from the save button. Grrr. Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Two - **Neema

**Date:** 2184

After docking with the _Neema_, Gharo was rushed to the med-bay for stabilization, and Han'Gerrel had called the rest of the squad into his office.

"WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED OUT THERE?!" Han'Gerrel raged with barely contained fury. "You had a simple, simple, job. And you managed to botch it. Gharo is in the med-bay, being stabilized as I speak. I've read the report. Geth. How the hell were the Geth there? You didn't even manage to place ONE single sun-scanner. We don't have the resources to make many of them. And you gallivanting off and getting one destroyed doesn't help. At least the others were still on board the shuttle."

Kal'Reeger stood from his seat spoke up, keeping a calm voice despite his anger at the Admiral.

"With respect, the Geth jumped us. by the time we realized they were there, we were pinned down and running out of options. If we didn't have our snipers there to support us, we'd currently all be dead."

Han Thought about this for a few seconds, and came to a result.

"Fine" Han spat. "Get out. I'll call you when I need your team again."

* * *

After the squad checked in on Gharo, and were assured that she'd be alright, Mek'Hal And Kal'Reeger Headed for the cafeteria, feeling hungry after the mission and debriefing.

"That was a pretty impressive shot you pulled off, Mek. I Doubt I could do it." Kal Commented, Inbetween Slurps from his neutrent tube.

"Really?" Mek asked.

"Yes, Really."

"Are you sure?"

"Drop the act, Mek. It doesn't suit you."

"That's a bad joke." Mek Replied to the underhand joke. It hurt, but she wouldn't show it. It hurt because she was stuck in a suit, unable to feel the universe around her. Unable to smell fresh food. Unable to eat it. It hurt even more because she knew she would never get to experience those senses. Many races took them for granted. They shouldn't.

"Anyway, what do you think about Your _Mantis?_ How does it handle?"

"It's a powerful gun. But it's slow to reload, and the recoil is a bosh'tet. To have it reload quicker or be semi-automatic instead of Bolt-action would help, along with decrease recoil, even if it didn't pack as much punch. Why are you asking anyway?"

"Oh, no reason. If you could swing by the armory later on, there is something I'd like to show you.

Mek knew that there was a reason why. But she'd have to wait.

* * *

**A/N **What could this mystery be? Who knows. Anyway, hoped you enjoyed!


End file.
